Parallels
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Marilla Cuthbert and John Blythe have their first conversation in years since their quarrel at the entrance to Blair's. They talk about Lavendar Lewis marrying Stephen Irving, and they turn to watch Gilbert's unabashed love for Anne before them as Davy climbs all over him and Dora stands demurely at her side. Set in AoA.


_**Soli Deo Gloria**_

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Anne of Green Gables. Or Anne of Avonlea. Or any of the lovely Anne books. :)**

Marilla Cuthbert's list of errands to complete in the town of Avonlea that day did not include a social visit with her once-beau, John Blythe.

Rather, it was composed of a neat schedule that so far that pleasant summer day Marilla had fortunately been able to strictly adhere to. That could not be said of every day's work, as the twins, Davy and Dora Keith, usually had some type of influence of mischief over it. Of course not Dora—sweet, docile, boring Dora. All the trouble lay in the devilish heart of mischievous Davy, who was too young to resist the strong temptation of forever torturing his sister, always while poor Marilla was trying to accomplish items of interest and practicality at Green Gables.

So far on the list of errands, which contained such items as thoroughly ridding the tomato patch of its summer's growth of weeds, dusting the sacred parlor, and mending all the holes in Davy's stack of clothes (Marilla, stubborn old woman she was, did this herself with her strained eyes, as Anne had other important things to do, such as bringing about Miss Lavendar's wedding to fruition—though what a mighty big and dirty pile it was), Marilla had kept up with her timing. Now the last big thing that must be crossed off her list before setting home to bring supper onto the table for the hungry children and Anne (who worked up quite the appetite, using up her energy on her long walks and endless tasks) was to go shopping at the home goods store in Avonlea, Blair's.

At breakfast, as Anne had tied up her shoes and her good apron strings, the two of them had discussed that fall's clothing meant for the twins. Goodness knew that their mischief and trouble did not end their lives—they grew bigger and older with every minute. "I know there is no truth to it, but it really seems as if Davy is growing half an inch a day. He'll pass me in height soon," Marilla said. She sounded bitter, as if that was not a day she was anticipating meeting that soon.

"So we must purchase some good cloth for longer pants. My, but they are getting old!" Anne said.

Marilla looked at this rosy-cheeked young woman through her glasses. No, but this was just a child. _Her_ child. Wasn't it just yesterday that Anne had appeared with Matthew in their one-horse buggy, all freckles on pale cheeks, stick braids, and ugly, scratchy dresses? How could this child declare these two young children as getting _old_? No, Anne was the one who was growing up much too quickly for Marilla's taste.

Anne continued, perhaps unaware of the memory-wondering Marilla selfishly, indulgently, allowed herself to dive into. "I promise, Marilla, as soon as the wedding is over, but before school picks up again, I shall be nothing but a seamstress. I shall be the greatest aid that I have ever been in my entire life! I will carry forward the challenge of saving your eyes if it means sacrificing my own."

Marilla pish-poshed. "You won't lose your eyesight sewing some dresses and pants."

"Still, I will prove myself as a help to you as I haven't all summer; I feel so _awful_ sometimes, running off as soon as breakfast is over and returning only late at night, leaving you alone with all the work and the twins, just the opposite of what I promised to do—!"

Marilla shook her head. "You're helping a friend out. I taught you well to do so. You're doing good for Miss Lewis. Now, go!" Marilla waved a dismissive hand at Anne.

Anne smiled at the old stubborn darling and told her she was so as she affectionately kissed her cheek. "I shall meet you at three o'clock at Blair's, and we shall purchase only the most sturdy of cloths for our daring Davy."

Marilla blinked away tears as Anne scampered out the back door. Whatever would she do when Anne left home for good?

Now the moment to reunite with her adopted-daughter had come. Somehow, Marilla had scrubbed the hands and face of Davy Keith and maintained his scrupulously clean self down the way to Avonlea. Many times she called him off from the ditch full of frogs, toads, and tiny minnows along the road. Dora, on the other hand, was a manifestation of goodness, looking especially more good than usual in comparison with Davy, who hopped like his froggy prey to and fro.

Somehow, Marilla, basket in hand, got her two different charges to Avonlea, and Anne was there. Which was a surprise. Of course Marilla knew the truthfulness and honesty and integrity Anne Shirley kept herself to; still, the fact that Anne had arrived not panting, with dust all over her skirt and hair straying from her carefully-constructed bun with some wild tale about some sort of hopeless scrape she'd managed to get into on the way to town, shocked Marilla as much as any wild tale would've.

"Hello, my darlings!" Anne said, indulgently kissing each twin on the cheek. Dora accepted her show of affection demurely, while Davy's face screwed up big with a grin. Anne gasped and stared at Davy. "There is no sign of dirt on your face. How did you manage that?" She looked, shocked, at Marilla for some kind of answer.

"I could say the same for you," Marilla said evenly. She felt uncomfortable to be in the midst of such displays of affection in public. She clutched paper in her free hand, her basket tucked in the crook of her elbow, "I have made up the list. Let us go gather our dry goods."

Davy groaned; "I don't wan'a go shopping! It's so boring and it takes so long!"

"Would you rather go through school this next year in rags?" Marilla demanded to know.

It alarmed her how long Davy entertained the idea.

"Now, Davy, you wouldn't want to be the only boy in school in clothes much too small for such a large boy as you, would you?" Anne asked Davy in a gentle voice.

Davy's face screwed up; "No, I suppose not."

So, Anne fixed the situation quite well, as it was her custom. She had Dora and Davy each by the hand, Dora calm, Davy boisterous. Marilla was relieved to only have to bear her basket and bag; the walk became quite easier to endure to Blair's with Anne in company.

Though, Anne was the reason to also impede their progress to Blair's; for, walking toward them at a brisk pace, as if afraid to lose them if he didn't hurry, was Gilbert Blythe. "Anne, Anne, wait for me!" He hadn't seen her in some days, as her time was mostly focused on Lavendar Lewis and Stephen Irving's wedding; his eyes lit up at seeing her.

Anne looked behind her and met Gilbert's eager face with shining eyes. Marilla recognized something in that smile that spread against her girl's face; the old woman quietly stood back, said, "Come, Davy, Dora, come with me into Blair's. Let's leave Anne to talk to Gilbert for a minute or two." Despite the relief she felt at having handed over the twins to Anne, she was ready to take them back in an instant, because of that recognizable something.

"Oh no, Marilla. Gilbert and I won't take but a moment; go into Blair's and the twins and I shall be there right behind you," Anne said reassuringly.

"Well, if you insist," Marilla said. Her eyes kept passing between Anne and Gilbert as the young man joined them. Marilla returned his warm greeting and then quietly backed out of the group. It wasn't that hard. Gilbert's eyes were only fleetingly on the twins before they found Anne's and stayed there like they were home.

Marilla's focus was solely on the pair of them and the twins when she bumped into a familiar face.

Mr. John Blythe had just come out of Blair's with his arms full of goods, his mouth open to call his son to bring the cart around. Marilla betrayed her habit of being conscious of her own behaviors and actions and had backed into the entrance to the store. In short, she bumped against him and gasped; John Blythe let out a surprised cry and almost dropped all of his groceries and dry goods.

Marilla felt horrified; after all the times she'd lectured Davy about looking where he was going and thinking of other people first, here she was, breaking every command she'd given him. "Oh, John!" She uncomfortably stepped to the side, her wrinkled face brushed with a brash red. "Excuse me! Pardon my thoughtlessness! My mind wasn't together, and for that I apologize."

"Please, pardon me, Marilla. I should've been watching where I was going." John Blythe sank to his knees and, carefully aware of his laden arms, began to carefully pick up his fallen jars and packages. "Also, I should've taken the offer of a box from Blair's niece."

Marilla quickly knelt to help him retrieve his goods. Her voice had lost its trembling tone and had returned to being nice and firm, almost indifferent. "We are both adults whose minds were focused on something on than what is in front of them."

"Indeed," was all that John Blythe could think of to say.

The task completed, both stood up and faced each other.

It'd been many years since Marilla Cuthbert had talked to her once-beau, John Blythe. They saw each other at church, but avoided conversation. In community activities, they stayed with their own friends. Even when their son and adopted-daughter were in rivalry during their schooldays, neither said anything to each other. But now, after all those years, they'd run into each other on the front step of Blair's.

And Marilla couldn't think of anything to say.

So John Blythe, a nice quiet man who usually wasn't the first to speak, was the first to speak. "How is Anne doing? Gilbert hardly talks of anyone else. I hear she hasn't been home too much this summer."

Marilla nodded, thinking Anne a nice, safe subject. "Yes, she is extremely busy. I hardly see her myself. As you know, old Lavendar Lewis from that little cottage, Echo Lodge, is finally marrying her old sweetheart, Stephen Irving. He has a son named Paul who attends Anne's school. She's quite fond of all three of them. She and Diane and their friend Leonora"—upon hearing the story behind the Charlotta's, Marilia refused to call Miss Lavendar's handmaiden anything other than her Christian name—"are putting together a wedding for them. It's taken up most of her time."

"Marrying an old sweetheart, ey?" Marilla blushed at his words. "That sounds just like your Anne, to do that."

"Yes, it is. She likes her little roles in matchmaking." Marilla looked once again at her mischievous Anne; her slight smile melted as she watched the scene before her. Anne and Gilbert faced each other; Davy had taken to climbing all over Gilbert like he was a tree; Gilbert hardly noticed him. Anne had one hand clasped over her and Dora's conjoined hands; Dora looked demurely at Gilbert, but was hardly there; Anne hardly noticed her. Their smiles greeted each other in warm admiration, recognizing and welcoming the other and their words. These two young people, this young man and this young woman—who, to Marilla's knowledge, were _just_ rivals in the sixth reader—they were _just_ children—weren't aware of the dusty street in Avonlea they stood on, surrounded by twins and his father and Marilla: they were lost in a world of their own, in which the only person in it was the other.

The thought scared Marilla a little bit. It caught her off-guard. It shouldn't have. Rachel had suggested Gilbert and Anne together for years. She always chatted about Gilbert's being sweet on Anne, and always wondered why Anne wouldn't be sensible enough to notice it.

Marilla knew now that Anne had noticed it. It looked a little like she welcomed it as well.

"They make a pretty pair, don't they?" John Blythe said, suddenly interrupting Marilla's thoughts.

Finally, Marilla met John's kind eyes. A kind of mutual thought passed between them—if all those years ago they'd made it up over their quarrel and been true sweethearts and gotten married, this scene before them wouldn't exist. There wouldn't be any Anne in Avonlea, no Gilbert at all.

They both understood it. Providence had led them on different paths; that quarrel, while not a good thing in and of itself, had led to some many good things. There was no need to think about the quarrel or remember it anymore. It was in the past, and it had brought this present before them.

"I believe they do," Marilla said quietly.

John Blythe then tipped his hat the best he could with full arms, and said, "I best be getting home to my Mrs. Good day, Marilla."

"Tell Hazel good day for me. Goodbye, John," Marilla said.

John Blythe smiled to her and she smiled back. She watched him break up the scene to gain the assistance of his son; Gilbert gave Anne one last sentence and one last crooked grin before hurrying after his father. Anne's smile to him remained on her face as she turned back to Marilla. Davy ran ahead of her and pumped Marilla's hand. "Marilla, Marilla, Anne—!"

"Ssh, Davy. Go in the store," Marilla said very sternly.

Davy stopped short and quietly obeyed for once. Dora walked in after him quietly, leaving Anne before Marilla.

Anne still had her smile for Gilbert on her face. All she could say to a listening Marilla was, "Oh, isn't there such goodness and richness in ordinary days, Marilla? It's like going out to run errands and finding a ruby along the road." She nodded to the store and said, "Shall we, Marilla?"

Marilla nodded, and they walked in together. But before they could walk to the cloth counter, Marilla heard Anne whisper softly, "Oh, isn't it a wonderful world, Marilla?"

Marilla thought about how her and John Blythe's relationship had ended after their quarrel, and she thought of how Anne and Gilbert had amended into something else after _their_ quarrel. "Yes, Anne," Marilla said, giving in to Anne's fanciful words, "it is."

 **Thanks for reading! Review?**


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